ThePineTable

The Pine Table

I've mentioned the girlfriend I had in college, Cindy. We both transferred to William & Mary in our junior year and were introduced at a new student orientation held in the gardens of the Governor's Palace (despite all the kegs of free beer--compliments of Busch Gardens--it was a rather elegant affair, with quartets playing chamber music and everything, a most memorable welcome to W&M and Williamsburg). A little more history: her apartment mate, who introduced us, and I both transferred to W&M from the same school, and their apartment was just a few blocks down the road from where I lived, so we all saw each other frequently. We were just friends for some time before we became involved, but when we did it was very intense. Yet our relationship that year was rocky--on and off--and by the end of the school year, we were no longer seeing each other. We didn't communicate that summer (in fact, we both had torrid summer romances). A few weeks after our senior year started, my phone rang one afternoon, and it was Cindy. Within the hour, we were back together again, and we both sort of vowed to make our last year of college very special for ourselves and for each other. It was a wonderful year. Even so, I think we both tacitly understood that our relationship would not endure beyond graduation.

After graduation, Cindy moved to Maine and began teaching. I flew up to

Maine during the school's fall break that first year, and we were together

for a week. By the end of that week, however, the strain between us was

palpable, and as she drove me to the airport, it was clear that she was

anxious for me to leave.

We continued to talk by phone and correspond (this was before e-mail),

however, and the feelings between us seemed to be good. As Christmas

approached that year, I got the harebrained idea to build a pine table for

her as a Christmas gift from step-by-step plans I had seen in an issue of

Popular Mechanics. The plans were for a heavy, oversized table that was

intended to be utilitarian. She lived in a rustic cabin, and I thought the

table would fit in perfectly. So for about 2 weeks I constructed this table

in the basement of my parents' house, and when I had finished, it was

gorgeous. Incredibly, I had given scarsely any thought as to how (or how

much it would cost) to have it transported from Virginia to Maine. Anyway,

when I phoned to tell Cindy of my Christmas gift to her, she was momentarily at a loss for words, then told me that she was sorry but that she couldn't accept it. She explained that she was grateful for my thoughtfulness and efforts, but that she simply had no room to accommodate such a massive table. I was crestfallen but said I understood and immediately went to that art gallery on The Corner and bought her some fine things that could be packed and delivered at much more reasonable cost. I was blind to or in denial or something of the fact that she had met someone soon after moving to Maine and that I was on the way, if not already, out of the picture. This was confirmed a few months later when she wrote a letter telling me that she had met someone else and fallen in love and that they were engaged to marry. I wrote her a reply thanking her for all the good times and

wishing her all the best, and that was our last correspondence.

That massive pine table still occupies the center of a downstairs den in my

folks' house, and when I visit I'll often run my hands over the smooth

shellacked contours and marvel at my handiwork.

Memories, sb, who would we be without them?

dlt



	The Pine Table I've mentioned the girlfriend I had in college, Cindy. We both transferred to William & Mary in our junior year and were introduced at a new student orientation held in the gardens of the Governor's Palace (despite all the kegs of free beer--compliments of Busch Gardens--it was a rather elegant affair, with quartets playing chamber music and everything, a most memorable welcome to W&M and Williamsburg). A little more history: her apartment mate, who introduced us, and I both transferred to W&M from the same school, and their apartment was just a few blocks down the road from where I lived, so we all saw each other frequently. We were just friends for some time before we became involved, but when we did it was very intense. Yet our relationship that year was rocky--on and off--and by the end of the school year, we were no longer seeing each other. We didn't communicate that summer (in fact, we both had torrid summer romances). A few weeks after our senior year started, my phone rang one afternoon, and it was Cindy. Within the hour, we were back together again, and we both sort of vowed to make our last year of college very special for ourselves and for each other. It was a wonderful year. Even so, I think we both tacitly understood that our relationship would not endure beyond graduation. After graduation, Cindy moved to Maine and began teaching. I flew up to Maine during the school's fall break that first year, and we were together for a week. By the end of that week, however, the strain between us was palpable, and as she drove me to the airport, it was clear that she was anxious for me to leave. We continued to talk by phone and correspond (this was before e-mail), however, and the feelings between us seemed to be good. As Christmas approached that year, I got the harebrained idea to build a pine table for her as a Christmas gift from step-by-step plans I had seen in an issue of Popular Mechanics. The plans were for a heavy, oversized table that was intended to be utilitarian. She lived in a rustic cabin, and I thought the table would fit in perfectly. So for about 2 weeks I constructed this table in the basement of my parents' house, and when I had finished, it was gorgeous. Incredibly, I had given scarsely any thought as to how (or how much it would cost) to have it transported from Virginia to Maine. Anyway, when I phoned to tell Cindy of my Christmas gift to her, she was momentarily at a loss for words, then told me that she was sorry but that she couldn't accept it. She explained that she was grateful for my thoughtfulness and efforts, but that she simply had no room to accommodate such a massive table. I was crestfallen but said I understood and immediately went to that art gallery on The Corner and bought her some fine things that could be packed and delivered at much more reasonable cost. I was blind to or in denial or something of the fact that she had met someone soon after moving to Maine and that I was on the way, if not already, out of the picture. This was confirmed a few months later when she wrote a letter telling me that she had met someone else and fallen in love and that they were engaged to marry. I wrote her a reply thanking her for all the good times and wishing her all the best, and that was our last correspondence. That massive pine table still occupies the center of a downstairs den in my folks' house, and when I visit I'll often run my hands over the smooth shellacked contours and marvel at my handiwork.



			Memories, sb, who would we be without them? dlt